


First Kiss

by Sincestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxious Dean, Brotherly Banter, First Kiss, Insecure Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincestiel/pseuds/Sincestiel
Summary: The first time they kiss, Castiel is struck motionless.  All he can think is that Dean’s lips are so plush and so soft, warm and damp and absolutely perfect.  And his hands are surprisingly gentle, cradling Castiel’s jaw so tenderly. His body trembles as he tilts Castiel’s head back farther, opens his mouth and lets his tongue trace Castiel’s top lip.  It’s tentative and unsure and gone entirely too quickly as Dean pulls backs, retreats with a soft smack of his lips before his hands fall away.





	First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get back in the swing of things after a short, unexpected absence. So you're going to get a couple of similar things in the next couple of days just to find my footing again. And then, hopefully, I can get back to prompts and my chaptered fic. 
> 
> Sorry about the unannounced break. I had real life things going on.

The first time they kiss, Castiel is struck motionless. All he can think is that Dean’s lips are so plush and so soft, warm and damp and absolutely perfect. And his hands are surprisingly gentle, cradling Castiel’s jaw so tenderly. His body trembles as he tilts Castiel’s head back farther, opens his mouth and lets his tongue trace Castiel’s top lip. It’s tentative and unsure and gone entirely too quickly as Dean pulls backs, retreats with a soft smack of his lips before his hands fall away.

Castiel, realizing that at some point he closed them, opens his eyes and finds Dean staring at him with a deep furrow in the center of his brow. He’s worrying his bottom lips between his teeth and he’s jittery, anxious. He shoves his hands in his pockets, as if he needs to restrain them, and then takes a step back. Castiel wants to reach out and pull him back in, but he never thought this was possible, knew that Dean felt like this but never expected him to acknowledge it in anyway. So he’s scared to do or say anything that might send him running. And right now he looks just like a terrified rabbit, ready to bolt at any sudden movement.

Dean shakes his head, smiling almost derisively before dropping his gaze to the floor. He huffs and hunches his shoulders slightly and then, “God. Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Yes you do,” is the response Castiel gives before he’s had time to think better of it. And then because he’s already said it, he adds, “You’re attracted to me. You always have been.”

Dean’s head snaps up at that and there’s just a hint of disbelief in his eyes before he sighs and nods. He looks guilty now and Castiel doesn’t know how to fix that. He has nothing for which he should feel contrite. 

“Fine. Yeah. Okay? You’re hot. I’m not blind. But don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” And just like that a switch flips and Dean’s angry. So many emotions so quickly for someone who claims not to get emotional. But that’s a lie. Dean is probably one of the most emotional humans Castiel knows.

It suddenly dawns on Castiel what, exactly, the problem is here. Dean kissed him. And not in a drunken fit or because one of them is facing imminent demise. As far as Castiel can tell, the only catalyst had been Dean’s desire for a cup coffee at the same time Castiel was preparing a bowl of cereal. Sharing, momentarily, the same few feet of space, as they frequently do now that Castiel is with them more often than not, had been enough to force Dean’s hand. Castiel had just let it happen, and in his desire not to spook Dean, he’d not responded.

Dean kissed him but he didn’t kiss back.

“Yes it will,” he finally says, reaching out to grab at the front of Dean’s shirt. He’s quick enough to catch Dean off guard, which is a feat even for a former angel of the Lord. When Castiel pulls, Dean stumbles forward. Castiel twists and Dean catches himself on the counter Castiel just put at his back, one hand on either side of Castiel’s hips.

They’re close again, bodies almost touching, and both of them are breathing heavily this time, shirts just brushing with each inhale. Dean’s face is unreadable now; he’s clamped down on all of his tells and Castiel has no idea what he’s feeling or thinking. But he’s come this far and Dean made the first move. So he doesn’t stop. 

When he slides his hands onto Dean’s sides under his open flannel, fingers slotting into the spaces between his ribs even through his t-shirt, he feels the tremors running through Dean’s body again. Offering a small smile, one he hopes Dean finds soothing, he whispers, “It should happen again right now, actually.”

There is a moment wherein Castiel thinks he’s pushed this too far. Dean’s eyes flutter all over Castiel’s face, looking for any trace of amusement, any hint that Castiel isn’t serious or is playing him in some way. And Castiel keeps letting his own gaze drift between Dean’s eyes and his mouth, subtle encouragement he hopes.

But Dean doesn’t move because there’s no way he’s going to make it this easy. Dean’s been fighting this, the connection they share and the attraction he feels, for as long as Castiel has known him. To an extent, Castiel is glad. Because, in the beginning, he would not have been receptive to any advances. And then, if they’d given in, they wouldn’t have made it through his misguided betrayals. Or Dean wouldn’t have been able to reconcile a relationship with a man with the image he likes to present.

Now though. Maybe. Just maybe, if they can get through the next ten or fifteen minutes, they might make it. Because Dean made a move and he hasn’t run away. So if Castiel can just get him to understand that it was shock and not rejection that caused him to be unresponsive the first time, it might be okay.

Before Castiel can find the right words and put them together in the right order, because this is a delicate situation that he has to handle with the utmost care, Dean asks, “This okay? You’re sure?”

He says it low, intimate, the words barely a mumble as he slots in closer to Castiel. Their combined body heat ratchets the temperature up several notches and causes Castiel’s newly human body to show the first signs of perspiration.

Nodding in answer, Castiel lets his hands slip farther around Dean’s body, fingertips digging into the muscles running down either side of Dean’s spine. He realizes, suddenly, that Dean isn’t shaking anymore. He’s solid and calm under Castiel’s touch and Castiel can’t help but remember all those times he’s seen Dean hold a gun steady and sure even under tremendous pressure. He thinks this probably feels a little like that to him too.

This time when Dean kisses him, he’s slower coming in for the landing. He eases forward, giving ample time for Castiel to move away if he wants. Castiel does not want to move away. That’s probably the very last thing he would ever want.

When Dean kisses him for the second time, Castiel is ready. He presses forward, opens eagerly to Dean’s tongue and moans softly when it meets his own. As their tongues move slowly, exploring, one of Dean’s hands come up to cup his face again, turning him slightly to the side. And then Dean presses forward deeper, more forceful and Castiel whimpers and lets him have as much control as he wants. Whatever Dean needs, Castiel will offer because now that he’s had this once, he’s never going to want to give it up. So if Dean needs to be in control, if he needs to assert dominance, Castiel will let him.

Their mouths part on a panting breath from Dean, and he eases their foreheads together, his hand still resting on the side of Castiel’s face. This close, it’s difficult to look into Dean’s eyes without feeling cross-eyed. But there are little flecks of gold there that he doesn’t usually get to see in the green depths, so he keeps his eyes open anyway. And he smiles when Dean’s thumb smudges along his bottom lip just before he places another quick kiss there.

They’re entirely quiet for several seconds, just breathing each other in and holding each other close – though Castiel thinks they’re not nearly close enough because there’s still space and clothes between them. And just when Castiel is about to open his mouth and ask Dean to promise him this isn’t a fluke, that they get to do this again, he hears a throat clear from somewhere behind Dean.

Sam. Great. He prepares himself for a lot of denial. Expects for Dean to let go of him if not push him away. And that’s okay really. He never imagined this would happen, so he certainly doesn’t expect Dean to own it in front of Sam. Not now, maybe not ever. But Dean seems intent on shocking him at every turn.

“Go away, Sammy,” he grunts, even as his free hand drifts up from the countertop to Castiel’s side, clinging there as if to ground himself. 

Sam snorts and Castiel expects him to make fun of them in some way. Or to poke fun at Dean. He knows well enough how they are with each other. But he silently begs for Sam not to do so. He’s terrified that if Sam gives Dean a hard time over this – getting caught with another man – Dean will bolt.

“This is the _kitchen_ , Dean. A common area. And some of us have need of the kitchen for things that can’t be done in, say, our own frickin’ bedrooms.”

Castiel tenses, preparing for however Dean takes the ribbing. Dean must notice, because he rubs his hand up and down Castiel’s side and, because he’s still close enough, moves his head enough to nip at Castiel’s bottom lip playfully. And that’s good. So good because even if he’s embarrassed at being caught, he’s not freaking out.

“Cas and I are doing kitchen things too.” Dean offers, finally pulling his face away from Castiel’s. He’s smiling through the slight blush adorning his cheeks and Castiel’s heart skips a beat. So _that’s_ what Dean looks like freshly kissed. His eyes are almost twinkling and Castiel thinks he’s never been quite so beautiful.

“You’re making out against the counter. That’s a bedroom thing.”

“Only if you’re boring as fuck. See, Sammy, Cas and I are adventurous-”

“Gross. Be adventurous somewhere I don’t have to eat.”

But Sam catches Castiel’s eye and smiles and Castiel thinks he sees some relief there. It can’t have been easy living in the tension swirling around them all these years, he thinks. And Sam’s been a trooper. For that Castiel makes a mental note to never do bedroom things anywhere Sam has to eat. And he only feels morose about it when he remembers that includes the front seat of the Impala. He’s had dreams about what they could get up to there. Very good dreams.

Dean threads their fingers together and is tugging him toward the door and, hopefully, one of their bedrooms, when Castiel turns around and digs his feet in long enough to ask, “Hey Sam? How often do you eat in the backseat of the car?”

Without giving it any thought, Sam replies, “Never anymore. Why?” He looks utterly confused until Castiel grins and nods and then, “Oh god. You two are made for each other. Just go.”

Sam shoos them out of the kitchen but they’re not paying much attention to him anymore. Or Castiel isn’t. All he can focus on is the feel of Dean’s fingers and how they fit so neatly between his own. _Yeah_ , he thinks. They _were_ made for each other.


End file.
